


What's The Worst That Could Happen?

by jmpinnix95



Category: Hellsing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 15:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15198098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmpinnix95/pseuds/jmpinnix95
Summary: A loving family is ripped apart one fateful night when the matriarch is brutalized by a pack of vampires. Her daughter survives and grows up withdrawn and shy (due largely in part to an abusive alcoholic father). What happens when she meets the vampire responsible for saving her that night many years ago? And what the hell is a Niphilim?





	1. Dancing With The Devil

     "Who am I? Why am I here?" Those are the biggest question people are faced with during their lives. Personally, I never quite found the answer to that question… I always thought I was just one in the billions of people who inhabit the earth every day. When I'm gone what will my life matter in the grander scheme of things? Sure my family and friends will miss me ; but that will not stop everyone from going on without me. My name is Saira O'Connor; and this is how I came to know what life really is like.

**CHANGE POV**

     She was sitting on a long discarded, water swollen, crate behind the main building of her high school, all the while contemplating the meaning of life ( which she supposed is what everyone did when they get extremely bored, that or watch YouTube videos). Glancing over at the wall on her left she noticed a bunch of graffiti. It was your normal brick wall, but like most brick walls at a high school it was covered with your usual "I love XX", or "XX + XX forever" , or her personal favorite "XX is a whore".

     It amused Saira sometimes to see what people would never say to each others faces but would gladly write on a brick wall for all to see. A smile stretched across her lips, only one side of her mouth going up. Chuckling darkly to herself, Saira turned her eyes back up to the wall; she knew it wasn't really that funny. But people really amused her some days. She reached in the pocket of her skinny jeans and pulled her I-pod out, turned up the volume, and blasted Davey Havoc's awesome vocals straight to her brain. Ah early career AFI, so young, so angry!

     Saira shifted her weight on the crate feeling something stab her in her backside. She remembered that she had put her razor blade in the back pocket of her jeans. Pulling it out slowly Saira gazed at it longingly, remembering all those lonely nights it had kept her darker side company. Nights where the nightmares were particularly powerful, or her fathers demands had been too much. And days like this, where school had become too much for her. It was shaped like your average hand held rectangular razor, it was surprisingly still shiny although you could see faint traces of crimson displayed elegantly, like lace, around the edges.

   She looked at it hesitantly. She wanted to drag it straight across her wrist, watch the blood puddle up, see the crimson liquid make a trail down the side of her arm, then drip down slowly into the grass. She had been cutting for six or seven years, she always cut deep enough to leave a nice pink scar, but never deep enough for her to bleed out.

     You would have thought someone would have noticed by now, all those lines carved into her pale skin; standing in stark testimony of her inner turmoil. Though she supposed that was why sweaters were invented. In her mind, she was already dying anyway, some sort of lung defect. But if she cut too deep, her sisters would have no one to take care of them. A discontented sigh pushed past parted lips, anxious fingers pulled the corner of the straight edged blade down atop the flesh of her left wrist, and drug it across. Eyes fluttered shut in a mixture of pain and pleasure that only twisted people could thoroughly enjoy.

     Suddenly a sound reached herears, breaking her sick indulgence. Hazel hues flew open and darted around searching for the source of the sound, there was a tall man approaching her steadily; his big heavy looking boots barely making a noise. Perhaps it would help if she took the ear buds out. He was wearing an ankle length deep red duster, his wide brimmed fedora, which cast a shadow over his face.

     The young woman couldn't make out any outstanding features from his face, except a pair of orangey red sunglasses he wore, perched atop the bridge of his nose: they were circular with metal rims, he also wore a black undercoat, a red ascot tied neatly at the base of his neck yet it gave the appearance of sloppiness at the same time. Underneath all those layers there was a long sleeved white button up shirt. Her eyebrow raised questioningly. Where in the nine hells did he come from?

     She couldn't tear her eyes away from him, even as a deep sense of fear started to trickle through her veins. The blood tinted razor slipped from her now limp grasp and fell softly into the grass under her feet. He bent down, his long body obscuring his face from her view, picked up her razor, and with an almost serpentine tongue licked it clean; placing it gently on her thigh. Her fear laced voice came out in a stammer. "Wh-o-o a-r-e yo-u-u?"

     He smirked wickedly, his white teeth illuminating his mouth. She gasped noticing how abnormally long his upper canines were, almost like a- but those didn't exist.. right? Suddenly that reoccuring nightmare about her mothers death made a bit more sense. All those therapists were wrong, they weren't just creatures conjured up by her subconscious to make sense of what happened. Vampires were real, and there was one really standing in front of her. One with her blood smeared on his thin lips. "Va- mm- pp – iirr- ee!"

     He smiled even larger as if to prove a point to her. "Very good," he chuckled "Now if only we could get you to speak correctly."

      Hazel eyes narrowed glaring with all the hate she could muster in her oddly proportioned body. He smiled as if it amused him in a way only he could comprehend. She came to the slow realization that he had her cornered, in an alley, where no one knew she was. Saira O'Connor could literally be murdered right now, and there'd be none the wiser. This thought made her stagger backwards, hands seeking for some purchase on the wall.

     She had read once, in her research about vampires, that they could read your mind; and that only a strong mental barrier would keep them out. So she imagined a brick wall surrounding her thoughts. He stared at her, like she had grown another head. Her heart was pumping really fast, and if she wasn't careful about her breathing; her lungs would act up soon and breathing wouldn't be much of a luxury. His voice rang out, dark and sardonic, interrupting her thoughts. "Just who are you? How does a human know how to shield her thoughts?"

     She smiled sickeningly sweet, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. "Just a girl who has too much time on her hands, it seems."

     He looked slightly amused, if only for a moment, then he looked down disapprovingly at her wrist; which was still bleeding. She could already feel the blood beginning to coagulate and solidify into a scab. The healing process had started. His movement was so fast that she could barely see him as he snatched the bleeding appendage. His tongue snaked out then proceeded to slowly (sensually if she was being honest) lick over the inflected area as she watched eyes wide. As his tongue moved over the wound it grew shut, puckering along the edges into a familiar pink scar.

     He dropped her arm back to her to her side and stepped back half a step. A sardonic smile stretched over his lips, attention now moving down to her face. She noticed her blood smeared on the corners of his lips, stubbornly sticking to him even though he had already wiped the excess off. She blinked up at him, eyes still wide from shock then narrowed in general dislike. "Thanks," she murmured numbly, body frozen in terror.

     He smiled, and bowed at the waist over dramatically. Sweeping his arm in an arc motion and brought his hand to his chest. "Anytime my lady, and I do mean anytime."

     Saira blushed but she couldn't for the life of her tell you why she did. A question fell from her lips, one she would later live to regret. "Who are you?"

     He smiled, as she imagined the devil would when an innocent soul was damned to perdition."Oh my where are my manners young miss? My name is Alucard," he feigned a frown, mocking an offended look. "I do not believe I caught your name…"

     She almost blurted out her name, then remembered her grandma's words. The memory was fuzzy, the situation beyond recall; but the words stuck. Names are powerful magic, my doll give yours not so freely. "I do not believe I gave it to you,"she meant for her voice to come out strong, but instead it came out like a squeak.

     He frowned and in the blink of an eye pushed her up against the wall by her shoulders, the brick cracking slightly at the force. He kept her pinned there, fingers applying digging into a pressure point at her shoulders. "I do not believe I was asking."

     She gulped and closed her eyes breathing in and out shakily. Every moment she didn't relinquish her name, he added more pressure. The pain was becoming too much to bare. "S-Saira O'Connor"

     He stared at her for a minute; his eyes slightly widening behind his glasses as if he had suddenly remembering something. With a final squeeze, pulling a pained gasp from her lips, he smirked triumphantly and dropped her with a satisfying thud to the cold, hard ground. "See that wasn't so hard was it?"

     She shook her head slowly from side to side, ebony hair swishing to cover her face in lapses. Her body curled in on itself, trying to make herself as small as possible; she breifly thought of making a break for it. He grinned and offered her a gloved hand; she looked up at the expectant hand and noticed his gloves. They were white primarily but with some sort of black sigil on the backs of his hands. She eyed his hand suspiciously for a moment, before deciding to accept his hand; remembering what happened last time she refused him.

     A small shiver ran down her spine at his cold skin, it surprised her that she could feel the cold through the gloves. He yanked her up a little too roughly (perhaps this was done on purpose), and she collided with his strong chest. She looked up at him blushing like crazy. She idly wondered what color his eyes were and with shockingly bold hands, ones that she couldn't believe were attached to the rest of her body, took off his glasses.

     The seemingly non-threatening clouds that were over head started to sprinkle them lightly in a warm rain. Not that rain was unusual, it rained all the time here. But that it started to rain at the same time that she removed his glasses? What were the chances of that? His eyes were a dark red, which struck her as odd, his pupils had this dangerously predatory shape to them, but somehow there was a soft, almost melancholy look to them.

     She was suddenly smoldering in the heat of his eyes. A foreign fire spread through her body, skin tingling, nerves dancing at their proximity. To closer inspect his face (it was just curiosity she told herself adamantly) she stood on her tiptoes to be more level with him. One of his arms snaked around her waist, holding her, but it felt as if he was trying to have as little body contact as possible.

     Green eyes with dashes of brown throughout them met his beautiful (when did she start thinking that?) red ones. A memory flashed before her eyes. It was the night her mother died: gun smoke, screaming, two red eyes watching her from the shadows...

      He retracted his arm that was holding her up to push her, causing a backwards stumble. She felt.. hurt. Like she had been rejected or something to that affect. He held out his hand impatiently wiggling two pianist fingers in her direction. She was confused for a moment then looking down at her own hand, recalling that she had taken his glasses. The ebony haired woman placed his glasses gingerly in his hand, trying to keep their skin from touching; lest flames consume her common sense once more.

     She leaned up against a brick wall delicately, her soaked clothes sticking to her like a second skin. The rain which started to pour faster washed over her calming a rampaging heart. Small droplets getting caught in her hair making the midnight hue sparkle, like jewels catching the light. It was raining that night too…. He put his glasses back on and adjusted them correctly onto his face and looked at her quizzically perhaps thinking the young woman insane. The slightly befuddled expression on his face looked out of place."What happened to your face?"

     She felt under her eyes, a brand new terror washing throughout her body. The makeup she had used to cover up a brand new black eye had since washed away in the rain. She really needed to look for water proof foundation, this was becoming a reoccurring problem. "I uh.. tripped and fell down some stairs. It's nothing really," perhaps she needed to convince herself of this lie first.

     He looked at her seriously leveling the young woman with an intense stare. She hadn't been so under scrutiny for a long time, and in that moment she knew he didn't buy her excuse. His teeth grit together, jaw setting on edge, a gulp trailed down her throat. "Stairs? That may work among humans, but I can taste your lies."

     Tears came unbidden, trailing down her face in hot trials. Not now, not now. Her mind whispered, trying to gain control over her body. "I-It's nothing... 'm fine.."

     She wrapped her arms around herself, body fighting itself to not go into a fit. He walked over to her cautiously as if he wading through a mind field. His voice came out almost apologetic, but the darkness was still there. "May I borrow your neck? I promise to make it worth your while if you wish…"

      Her eyes had darkened, the green almost swallowed by the brown. "That won't be necessary," she was a good Catholic girl, she wasn't about to give up her virginity in a back alley to a vampire.

      "Why do you want to bite me? Why ask permission?"

He seemed to consider her for a moment before answering. "I want to know you, princess."

     It wasn't very often people knew the meaning of her name, her mom had picked it out. She was their firstborn, their princess; little did her mother know that the throne she would inherit would be self loathing and alcoholism. "Will it hurt?"

     He laughed and cast a gaze at her discarded razor blade. Point taken. "Why?"

     The vampire gave no response, watching her instead. With shaking hands, she swept her hair away from her neck. Eyes squeezing shut in fear. What she felt wasn't puncturing, the sensation was more familiar. All coherent thought left her as his tongue found her neck, trailing along the wound and surrounding flesh. That fire came back with a vengeance, coursing throughout her body once again; settling between her thighs. Her fingers gripped tight to him, fingers curling in the fabric of his jacket; dipping her head to muffle a noise against his shoulder. Alucard moved back after sealing the wound, casting the razor away once again; landing she knew not where.

     Vaguely she remembered somewhere that vampires could read your memories from your blood. Was that what he meant by knowing her? Would she be an open book then? Thoughts raced through her head at a hundred kilometers per hour, driving her mad with unanswered questions. He just stood there, eyes closed, not making a sound. Suddenly he took a step toward her, and immediately she flattened herself against the wall; eyes averting to the ground. A chuckle met her ears and he held his place.

     He ducked his head to catch her eyes, trying to read past her mental blocks; but she shielded eyes narrowed n concentration. He stopped trying to force his way into her thoughts and looked up at the skies above. The rain clouds over head decided that it was time for another torrential down pour, the seemingly dormant puff balls turned, in a matter of minutes, into massive, roaring, thunder heads of doom. Monstrous booms loosed from the atmosphere, lightening streaking the skies; illuminating the sky for brief increments. This seemed to make it rain harder down on the odd pair, re-soaking their already wet clothes sending Saira into a sneezing fit.

     Alucard shrugged off his duster, which somehow managed to stay dry, and draped it over her small shoulders in an attempt at chivalry. She smiled and her fingers curled around the lapels and pulled it closer, wrapping it around her body. He moved to leave, seeming to dissipate through the shadows. "Alucard," she called after him, taking a step forward.

     His head peaked back out from the shadows. "Yes…?"

     She blushed and looked down at her combat boots fidgeting with nervousness. Never walk when you can strut princess. Taking a deep breath she squared her shoulders. "I'm not always like this," she started, forcing herself to meet his eyes. 

     He raised a eyebrow at her. "A-and since now you know me, better than anyone else, I-I'd like to get to know you if that's alright?"

     Crimson orbs swept over her face, searching for... something before a smile spread over his face. "I don't see why not, fair is fair after all."

     She nodded, waved goodbye to the strange vampire, and headed toward her house. Perhaps she'd make it there before her father got too drunk.


	2. Family Portrait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some violence and heavily implied rape towards the end. Basic summary, Saira's mom was raped and murdered by a group of vampires.

     The rain suddenly stopped as if someone hit an off switch, no slowing down , no slow drizzle, just intense pouring rain then nothing right as she reached the front door of her loft. Saira reached into her pocket and got out the keys and slid it into the door gently turning. With a sharp inhale she stepped over the threshold and into her families abode.

     She flipped the light switch and familiar unhappiness greeted her eyes, red suede furniture lined the living room walls, a coffee table nestled in between them shows a boast of technological themed magazines all with coffee rings lining them, directly across nestled flush against the wall above an old never used fireplace sits dad's sixty two inch TV, there is an cherry wood stained dining room table with four chairs matching it, two of which have identical high chairs affixed to them. There is a spacious kitchen updated with all the modern appliances that only she got the pleasure (is forced) to use. Saira sighed and started to preheat the oven, put water on to boil, and hunted down the vacuum to clean the living room without further ado. Dusting the TV, DVD self, and coffee table were the next things on her list of chores set forth by her father. Then came vacuuming the stairs, the hallway, everyone's rooms, and the office where her father entertained his bosses. Then mopping and waxing the kitchen, dining room, and bathroom. Followed by boiling the noodles for spaghetti, then baking said spaghetti noodles with marinara and cheese, getting the good plates and silverware cleaned, polished, and ready. Putting a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice with two glasses for dad and the woman he was supposedly bringing to dinner with him to meet the family; and milk in sippy cups for the twins. She sighed half of her chores done she retired to her room with an orange after being asked to not join her father and sisters at dinner. However she was supposed to remember to wash the dishes without scaring his girlfriend.

     Sighing she relaxed onto the black feather down comforter of her bed and stared at the ceiling that she had recently redecorated. Quotes from great poets and people all circularly revolved around one single picture. The picture was of a woman with a younger girl they looked almost identical. They both had black hair, green eyes, a smattering of freckles, and pale skin; you would never guess they were Irish. The older woman had waist length black hair that fell in waves, her bust protruded slightly out of the green scoop neck top she was wearing, her smile almost split her face in a goofy way. She was cradling a girl around the age of thirteen to her chest. The young girl is smiling too her green eyes are glowing with the vibrancy and beauty to match the light of a thousand stars; she is looking up at the woman grinning from ear to ear.

     Saira sniffled pushing back memories and tears. She stood up and leaned on her window sill, opening it to let cool night air wrap around her teasing her hair around her face. A hushed whisper left her lips mingling with the air around her. "You were there that night weren't you, Alucard? You were her executioner and my savior weren't you?" The young girl sighed and whispered. "Alucard…. Such a strange name, strange man too. How did you find me after all this time, " she smiled "Oh well, no use talking to the night's absence when I have dishes to clean."

**Flashback**

_It was a blistery Devil's Night, the night before Halloween, and Raven and her mother had just gotten back from eating dinner and going shopping for Saira's thirteenth birthday. Her father agreed to stay home with the twins while they had girl's night out. The mother daughter pair made their way down a quiet London street and sung the lyrics to their favorite song as they were hugging onto each other. A group of five men circled the two their eyes all glowing a hellish red. "Hey ladies how 'bouts you join us for a bite to drink?"_

_The mother shivers and clutches her child to her protectively and replies coldly fearing the worst "No thank you we just got done eating and we were just head home if you'll excuse us."_

_She moves to shove through the men and one steps in front of her blocking her exit path, now there are six men. The man blocking them speaks; he is not from England his accent gives it away "Oui! Madame! Where are you going is such a hurry? Me and my comrades just want to 'ave a little fun eh? Come on what do you say?"_

_The woman spits in his face and attempts to run past them when her daughter is torn from her grasp by a dark skinned man. He jerks her head to the side showing the terrified mother her child's pale neck his mouth inching towards her jugular. The daughter sniffles trying to be brave a small line of tears trailing down her cheek glittering in the moonlight. His fangs elongate and nick the pale, tender, neck and fine streams of crimson trail down her collar bone. He jeers "Now you wouldn't want to hurt your daughter by being stubborn would you? Come on it'll be fun we'll each take turns passing you around and we won't lay a hand on your daughter as long as you cooperate."_

_The mother swallows the fear nestled in her throat and starts to say "OK I'll.." but she is cut off by her daughters indignant screaming. "NO! Mommy you can't! Don't worry about me! Hurry run home to Aiobhean, Bridgette, and Daddy! I'll be fine!"_

_The young girl's protests are silenced by a loud smack. Her face feels like its on fire, the foreigner smiles seeing the red imprint of his hand glowing on the younger girls face. Her lip quivers and her eyes threaten to well over with tears but she can't resist them. The mother gasps in shock and drops to her knees, she whimpers "OK I'll do it but please just leave her alone."_

_The men share a laugh and draw lots to see who will get her first and the foreigner gets her first and they pass her around, one by one each of the six men getting their turn, but not after pulling more women off the streets to sate their blood lust. Soon they have a small army of ghoulish women and only the daughter is still human, her soul is shattered her eyes vacant, the men forced her to watch what they did to her mother, and to the other women; but surprisingly they kept their promise. A tall man in red approaches alongside him a shorter girl with short blonde hair and a soldier's uniform. The woman gags in disgust and the man sneers and starts dispatching the women in twos, one gun in each hand alternating firing shot after shot, turning the soulless husks that were once women into piles of dust. The small blonde woman untangles the little girl from the gutter drain, and the young girl gets up and runs to her mother. Her mother, however, is no longer the same warm care giver she once was. The once mother of three is now a mindless zombie with only hunger on her mind as she approaches the girl she once affectionately called 'daughter'. The little girl backs up screaming and collides with the chest of the tall red man as he speaks coldly "Your mother is no longer human, but a mindless ghoul that will devour you without a second thought. Let's send her soul to a better place."_

_He scoops the little girl into the crook of one arm but not before the mother plants one small kiss on her daughter's forehead. Then the man in red pulls the trigger, and the mother turns to dust which swirls around her daughter glowing brightly in the moon. The man hands the little girl to the petite blonde and says coolly "Take her home, I'll go give Integra the mission report."_

_T_ _he blonde nods curtly and takes the little girl to her father, swaddled in a police blanket, and tells him a watered down version of what happened, without all the paranormal stuff, and that he would be sent his wife's ashes within the month. He glares at his daughter and shoves her through the door as the police girl left she heard "Why couldn't it have been you instead of her?"_

      Saira went to bed at four that morning. All chores completed, the twins bathed and lunches packed, and her homework done. The bad thing being that she had to get up in three hours to get ready for school. A sigh left her lips as she snuggled Alucard's duster to her face, curling her body around it and inhaling the scent deeply. She drifted off to another (thankfully) dreamless night with his voice in her head saying."Sleep well Saira, for tomorrow your mine..."


	3. Chase the Sunset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some smutty stuff in this one, if you don't like that sort of thing you can skip it and it won't affect your understanding of the plot.

   Saira woke up with a start, gasping for breath and grabbing at her chest. She hadn't had an incident that intense in a while. It had been so long since that night. The night when her whole life changed. The one person who loved her unconditionally, died in the most awful way imaginable. Her body was still heaving, trying to bring air into her lungs, and regulate her heart beat. After a few moments she was able to calm down and start on the day. Her homework and backpack were all packed and ready. So all that was left was to get herself ready. With a sigh and no small amount of groaning, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, stood up and headed over to the closet.

     Her day-to-day wardrobe was pretty simple: jeans, t-shirt, hoodie, trainers, and mismatched socks. Why mismatched socks? It was a tradition her mother started, she said nothing good ever happens when you're wearing matching socks. She was almost eighteen now, she'll be applying to Uni soon, and she still wears mismatched socks. Sometimes when she would dress the twins they too would wear mismatched socks, but only if she was sure her father wouldn't see; he became incensed very easily.

     Selecting a pair of faded jeans, a purple short sleeved shirt with a slight v in the neckline, and her usual pair of trainers she set about finding a hoodie.  _Ah it is getting to be laundry day isn't it?_ Most of her good hoodies were dirty which left the one she  **really**  did not want to wear today. Her friend had gotten it for her as a gag gift one birthday when she was still piecing everything together about the events of her mother's death. Vampires killed her mother, and that caused a bit of an… obsession. Every movie, book, and piece of mythos she could get her hands on was rapidly devoured. So her friend got her a hoodie with "Vampires Suck" emblazoned in a bleeding gothic print. And considering she  _might_ have a guest this morning who just  _might_ take offense to it; she didn't want to wear it. But it was too chilly outside to not wear one on a maybe, so she added it to the pile and padded barefoot to the bathroom.

     The bathroom she shared with her younger siblings was nice, but what she really liked was the lighting. Her mom loved old Hollywood style dressing rooms, so the bathrooms had big mirrors that covered the entire wall surrounded by lights. The lights made your skin glow, made you seem flawless; a great way to start the day. Her pajamas were pretty plain, loose baggy pants and a large nearly threadbare t-shirt. Her hair was a literal mess, the waist length black hair was tangled and poufy. She grasped her hairbrush and started running it through her hair, the detangling process took around ten minutes and a few tears. When she was done her hair was back to its natural, wavy, shiny, state.

     Next was the part that was the worst overall; covering up the bruises. Color correcting, concealer, foundation, concealer, and setting powder. All to disguise the fact that her father could not look at her without seeing her mother's ghost. It was an odd thing to be someone's ghost and also a living person. Hovering between life and death, what is and what isn't… never being a whole person.

     She put on a pink laced bra, her shirt, and her hoodie. Next was pants but as she was bending down she glanced in the mirror and saw it was fogging up. Which was very strange considering she hadn't run any water? Hands came forth from the mirror, clad in white gloves- wait  _ **what**_? Followed by red sleeved arms, next came his head, face grinning that maniac grin. Saira's heart was pounding in her chest, ice moving through her veins.

     His aura radiated with power she could never hope to understand. It permeated the very air, choking her airways, causing a heat to spread through her lower belly. What on  _earth_ was that feeling? Every time he came around there was a pull in her body. Something primal urging her to grab him and-… and do what? His whole body was in the room now and the space seemed much too small. His chest was against hers and her skin flushed hot with embarrassment, she was still in her pajama pants.

     "Hello,  _princess_ ," his voice was a growl, raising the hair on her neck.

     Saira offered a weak wave and shifted from foot to foot. What  _was_ her deal? It wasn't like she had never been around a guy before. But somehow this was different, this was a deep seeded  **need**.

     "What's the matter," he purred. "cat got your tongue?"

     He backed her against the wall, grabbed her wrists, and slammed them into the wall. "Your rudeness is getting rather irritating,  _princess_."

     A pained gasp slipped between her lips and her eyes fluttered shut. "H-Hello, Alucard."

     "That's better," he growled and slowly lowered himself against her body.

     Every inch of him that was against her caused a heat to begin to grow. "Please," her voice cracked and she nibbled her bottom lip.

     "Please what," his voice was deep, husky. "Tell me what you want, Saira."

     What did she want? Her body was telling her one thing (very loudly in fact) and her mind said another. His voice interrupted her thoughts.

**Smut beginning**

     "Your pullover," she gulped and squeezed her eyes shut. "Take it off."

     "What?" Her mind couldn't process those words together.

     "Take. It. Off." His voice was a snarl.

     Her hands were shaking, but were in fact still above her head. He increased the pressure, causing the bones in her wrist to grind together. She whimpered and he laughed, holding both her hands in one of his larger ones.

     "Allow me to help," his voice was a purr now, and her body responded without her having told it to do anything.

     Her hips rolled forward and brushed against his own, the vampire grinned at this. His free hand went to the hem of her hoodie, he played with the fabric for a moment. Her muscles tensed with anticipation, body humming with energy, pupils dilating with what she could only describe as desire. In a split second he yanked the pullover and tore it from her body, accidentally taking her top with it. Christ in heaven he was strong.

     "Well, well what do we have here?" His eyes moved across her naked torso raking in the creamy pale flesh.

     His hand spread across her abdomen, fingers pressing into the sensitive flesh. She was equal parts speechless and terrified. But there was a slow fire building in her belly and for some reason she couldn't bring herself to act on the fear. His hand moved up her stomach to her ribs, raking up her ribs drawing a hiss of pain from her lips.

     "A-Alucard…" Her voice quaked, but it wasn't entirely the fear.

     He didn't respond, instead he pushed her bra up and over her breasts. Her eyes widened with the cool air's kiss on her sensitive flesh.

     "Please," what she was asking for she knew not, but she needed something.

     A sardonic grin spread his lips, showing off those razor sharp teeth. He roughly grabbed her breast, earning a groan from her, massaging the flesh in his large hand. She panted, closing her eyes and allowing these sensations to run amok in her body. His finger closed around one pink nipple and rolled it around between his thumb and forefinger. A moan bubbled up through her throat and poured from her lips. Her hips freely rolled against his now, her body seeking some kind of friction. He dropped her hands and clamped that hand over her mouth, muting her noises of pleasure. She raised a brow, confusion written across her features.

     "Hold on tight," his voice was intoxicating just to hear at this point, even if his words didn't exactly make sense.

     Oh but they did a moment later when the hand that was playing with her breasts pushed her pajama pants to the ground. For a fleeting moment she thought to stop him, wasn't she supposed to be saving herself for marriage?  _I won't live that long, my lungs will quit before that_. And why shouldn't she enjoy some pleasure after all the hell she'd been through the past five years? His carmine eyes met her emerald ones, she'd like to think he was seeking permission; but he hadn't asked thus far. She gave a quick nod, giving herself over to whatever pleasure he could offer.

     His fingers moved through the trimmed dark hair nestled between her thighs. He nudged her thighs apart before diving into her wet heat. Her body trembled and a gasp escaped her mouth, only to be muffled by his gloved hand.  _Oh God, he's still wearing his gloves and he's touching me..._ His finger moved inside of her, curving and stroking her sex. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her knees buckled. Perhaps it was the angle or maybe he was just too good at this, but every movement he made inside her made her body quake. He coupled this finger moving within her with one moving in circles against something that made her whole being feel like it was on fire. She fell forward against him, clinging to his shoulders with all her might. His hand moved from her mouth so she turned her face into his neck to muffle her cries of pleasure against his cool skin. His fingers moved faster and she felt this great coiling in her lower belly.

     "Alu-…" she moaned into his neck. "I think I'm close."

     He growled and sped up a bit more, causing ripples to cascade throughout her body. That coil tightened and tightened until the tension snapped and pleasure flowed through her body. The aftershocks kept twitching through her body, sending moan after moan pouring through her lips.

     Soon the quakes passed and she stood back upright. Her cheeks flushed and her gaze moved to his face.

**End of smut**

     "Thank you," she murmured.

     He chuckled. "I do nothing without wanting something in return."

     "What do you want," her voice came out as a whisper.

     Without another word he turned her around, bent her over the sink, and ran his un-gloved hand over the expanse of her back settling on two faint parallel scars that mirrored the curve of her shoulder blades. He dragged a sharp nail long the scar, bringing blood forth from below the surface. Saira winced but relaxed to it, it was a fair trade pleasure for pleasure. His tongue followed the blood from the base of her spine to the wound. He murmured a word against her spine that she didn't quite get.

     "Repeat that?"

     "Nephilim." He murmured.

     "What is that?" Her body rested against the cool, faux-marble, countertop.

     "The unholy offspring between an angel and a mortal," he chuckled. "It seems your mother got up to some mischief."

     "No that's not possible," her voice quavered. "My dad isn't an angel."

     "I didn't say he was."

     "My mom wouldn't," she paused and thought for a moment, she looked nothing like her father or the twins. "Are you serious?"

     He just laughed, every utterance dripping a kind of madness.

     She sighed and checked the time on her phone, she needed to leave to get to school. "I've got to get ready to go Alucard, the art department is taking a field trip to the London Museum of Art and I can't be late."

     He gave a nod and sealed the wound on her back with another flick of his tongue. "Try to behave yourself,  _princess_."


	4. Ad Infernum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Graphic depictions of abuse at the end of the chapter

     The renaissance wasn't her favorite era for paintings. So many of the same religious scenes done over and over and over again. Though Artemisia was a nice detour from the usual removed quality of the subjects. Her heroines were a part of the action rather than letting it passively happen to them, the raw emotion in Susana and The Elders was enough to pull you in. When you factor in the fact that she was raped it really hit home. She wandered aimlessly through the galleries taking in the art with little interest. How could she? After the events of that morning she thought she'd feel different, forever changed by her rendezvous. But maybe that was the catholic in her. No one had remarked that she looked any different. In her wandering she managed to find herself separated from her class.

     This wing was rather empty. Including herself there were three people, the other two being a woman in a pants suit and a strange hat and a man with a long pony tail and an equally long rosary. They were arguing about something, that much was clear from their body language. It was even more clear by the man calling the woman a "squealing English sow". From beside the woman appeared a swirling black vortex.  _That looks awfully familiar almost like-_ Her thought was interrupted when, in fact, Alucard emerged.

     Her green eyes widened and she found herself walking closer to find out what  _exactly_ was going on. Behind the man with the ponytail came someone she never thought she'd see again and words left her mouth before she could really stop them (which she would have if she had taken the time to notice the two bayonets the priest was wielding or the two guns Alucard was )."Father Anderson?"

     His eyes moved from the vampire in front of him to the girl. "Saira? What are you doing here?"

     She shrugged, taking in the weaponry surrounding her. "I was about to ask you the same question. Last I heard you were heading up an orphanage and couldn't make it to my mother's funeral."

     "Ah yes, about that-"

     "But it seems to me you are perfectly able to travel now," she glared up at the blonde priest. "Although I don't recall getting a letter or a call so perhaps I am hallucinating."

      "You know the Judas Priest?" Alucard's baritone sent shivers down her spine.

     "Yes, he christened my mother, my sisters, and I." She shrugged.

     "Saira, you know this abomination?" The Scotsman's brogue cut their conversation off before it had begun.

     "Abomination is a little harsh since we're all God's creatures." Not answering was a good strategy. 'He fingerbanged me in the loo this morning' probably would not win her any points.

     The air was tense. They all stood there, weapons out and pointed at one another while she stood off to the side looking between them like a confused child. Thankfully a familiar blonde woman in a police uniform came through in the nick of time with a group of Japanese tourists, who did not seem phased by the two impossibly tall men who had their weapons drawn like a weird old west show down.

     "Anyyyyyway," she let out, shoving her hands in her pockets for emphasis. "I should probably get back to my class before they notice I'm missing. Lovely to see you again Father, do let me know next time you'll be in London. We can grab a cuppa and catch up."

     She walked by Alucard, trying her best to avoid eye contact, and bounded back up the stairs to the main gallery floor. What a weird small world. The man she was… seeing(?) and the man who knew her mother her whole life were mortal enemies of some sort. Perhaps the next time she saw Alucard she would ask him about it.

     Comparatively the rest of the field trip went off seamlessly as did the rest of the school day. And since it was such a nice day out she decided to walk through the park on her way home instead of taking the short way. It was rare to have a sunny day in England, especially one where there was such a nice breeze and beautiful clouds. She wished her mother were here to see it. On days like this the whole family used to go to the park. When the twins were younger they'd push them back and forth on the swings. But before that when it was just the three of them, they would have adventures. The slides would become mountains and the monkey bars would become vines over shark infested waters. They were so happy. She closed her eyes for a moment to hear them all laughing as a family once again.

     As all good things end, so too did her trip down memory lane, she arrived home. Something seemed off but she couldn't quite put a reason to the feeling. It was an average Wednesday afternoon. But things seemed to change drastically when she went to put her key in the door. Instead of the key going in, the door slowly swung open to reveal a darkened and quiet house. Her steps were tentative as she moved into the living room. Everything seemed normal, just dark and devoid of noise. She could hear the blood rushing around, moving ever faster in a fit of adrenaline.

     "You're late."

     She spun to find the source of the noise and found her father sitting on the suede sofa, bottle of Jameson in hand. "I uh, took a walk through the park on the way home since it was a nice day."

     "Mhm."

      "Where uh," she wetted her dry lips, palms moistening with fear. "Where are the twins this evening?"

     "They're staying with Jessica tonight." His voice was devoid of all emotion, the coldness scared her.

     "Oh and how is she?"

     Thomas O'Connor was not a tall man, about average height and slightly above average weight. His red hair caught the limited light filtering in through the blinds as he stood, looking to be aflame. Without saying a word, he stepped closer to his daughter who stayed frozen in place. Running always made it worse.

     "Daddy? What's wrong?"

     A loud smack rung out through the living room and Saira felt her cheek flame up in response; tears already welling in her green eyes. "You little slut. You think you can just walk in here and lie to my face?!"

     Her skull exploded, or rather a heavy bottle of liquor shattered against her head and she crumpled to the floor. Hands went immediately to the wound and came away covered in a mixture of blood, whiskey, and glass. Her vision spun and everything felt like it was moving in slow motion as she tried to stand back up.

     "Did I tell you to get up you filthy fucking whore?" The question was punctuated with a kick to her sternum landing her in the coffee table, the glass top shattering around her.

     "Do you know what I ask myself every day?" Thomas growled as he yanked the disorientated girl up by her long hair before slinging her into the nearest wall.

     "Why couldn't you have died instead of your mother?" His booted foot collided with her ribs earning a sputtering coughing fit from the young woman as she tried to crawl away.

     "She was good and kind, she would have been ashamed to see what a skank her daughter grew up to be." This was emphasized by another kick to the ribs, and another, and another, and they kept coming until Thomas got tired.

     He stood there staring at his handiwork. She was barely breathing, and had stopped trying to crawl away some time ago. Saira just laid there taking the brunt of his rage, unable to move or scream. Instead she prayed, to God, to anyone that it would end soon. Panting he seized her by her hair again and drug her to the back door. She clawed at his hand, begging for him to stop, but her protestations fell on def ears. With his free hand he slid open the back door and tossed her out.

     "Don't you ever even think about coming back here. You're dead to me."

     He closed the door slowly, enjoying the way the realization hit her and she tried to crawl back. But he had already locked the door.

     It had begun to rain again, as if the sky was matching the precipitation falling from her eyes. But bleeding and concussed she fumbled her way down the street. Everything was blurring together and every step caused radiating pain in her ribs. She would venture to guess that one of them if not more were broken. She stopped for a moment to collect her thoughts and try to get a handle on breathing. Where would she go? She had no one and nothing to her name. Black invaded the edges of her vision and she clung to the wall trying to put distance between that house and herself until finally her legs gave out. She crumbled to the sidewalk, barely able to get enough air and the black was spreading. Most of her field of vision was useless and there was nothing she could do.

     "It's all over now." She looked up recognizing the voice, but was only able to make out a red outline.

     "How did you-" He lifted her into his arms, causing the pain in her ribs to flare to life again.

     "Hush now  _princess_ , sleep."


	5. Esti Al Meu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of sexy times in this one and it's a heckin long chapter. Sexy stuff is marked at the beginning and end so you can skip it if you want to.

     Mist rose up from seemingly nowhere, surrounding her in a cool fog; blanketing everything in white. She was laying on the ground, black hair sprawled out in waves against the cool white granite beneath. The cold feeling of the atmosphere was what woke her from her slumber, she was unused to feeling the cold in so many  _delicate_ places. Sitting up slowly she waited for the pain to hit, to feel the breath pulled from her delicate lungs, but none of that happened. For the first time in five years she could breathe without feeling like her lungs would give out from exhaustion. Saira pushed herself to stand letting her green eyes move around the space, trying to get an idea of where she was, but there was nothing just a vast white nothingness. She wandered for a moment trying to find some sort of structure or color among the fog; but there wasn't any to be found. What was this place? And, where was she? The last thing she remembered was her father throwing her out of the house (quite literally) everything else seemed to be a blur. Had she died? Was this Hell? Or purgatory maybe? Had she truly been so bad in her eighteen years of life to deserve going to Hell?

     " _You did let your mother die..._ " came a raspy voice, seemingly right beside her ear.

     "Who was that?!"

     " _You let everyone down._ " Again, the voice seemed to be right beside her but when she turned to face it there was no one; just the same white emptiness.

     "Show yourself!" Etched in panic, her voice trembled.

     " _You're a disgrace"_ **"You should have never been born"** The voices seemed to circle her, taking turns spouting out their horrible rhetoric.

     She crumbled to the ground, quivering hands covering her ears trying to stop the onslaught of voices. There were so many now, gaining in volume and acidity in their words. The more she tried to block them out the louder they became until they swelled in a cacophony of vitriol.

     "STOP! Please," her voice quavered, hot fat tears rolling down her face. "Just make it stop."

     And all at once, they did the multiple voices being replaced with one singular rich baritone. "Get up, girl."

     She looked up from her crouched position, tears clouding her vision; but she would recognize that silhouette anywhere. That singular silhouette which caused her heart to flutter. "Alucard? How did you find me?"

     He offered a hand and pulled her up to standing, carmine eyes roving over her naked form. "You don't recognize this place?"

     She shook her head, taking another glance around the empty space. "Should I?"

     He chuckled. "This is your mind. You're in… what do you humans call it? Ah, yes. You're in a coma."

     She gasped and immediately went to cover her hands with her mouth. "A coma? But how?"

     He rolled his eyes. "The doctors put you in one, something about healing. I didn't pay attention."

     "So those voices- "

     "Were all your own thoughts yes."

     "How are you in my head?" Emerald eyes searched his face.

     "Even if I told you, you wouldn't comprehend. Your human mind couldn't handle it. Suffice it to say that I'm bored."

     She laughed despite the situation and wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks. "So, what now?"

     "Well it is  _your_ mind you could do anything, be anywhere."

     She bit her lip and looked around the space. "I don't know how; can you show me?"

     He smirked and took her by her wrists. "Close your eyes,  _princess_."

     His tone sent a shiver down her spine, pooling in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes fluttered shut, dark lashes brushing against her high pale cheek bones. "Open them."

     When she opened her eyes, she was surrounded by opulence. They were in some sort stone room, there was a nice fire in an ornate fire place that cast a warm glow across the room, there were large plush oriental rugs on the floors, rich woven tapestries on the walls, and the windows were covered in heavy brocade curtains. She went to move to look around the room and found she couldn't move. She looked down and found herself on a plush canopy bed covered in overstuffed pillows and silk bed clothes. Around her wrists were red silk ties which attached to the bed. And on her body, was a whole other story. A green steel boned corset pushed up her breasts to almost her collar bone. She was in a seated position so she could see that all she had on her legs were a pair of stockings with garters that led up to a pair of ruffled boy shorts. A blush rose up on her cheeks. "A-Alucard? What is this?"

     "You asked me to do something, and I did," he moved closer to the bed and ran a hand along her thigh. "Are you not pleased with the results?"

     She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. "I uh, have never worn anything like this. How do I look?"

     He grinned, and started to remove some of his layers starting with his glasses and hat. Then followed his red overcoat, black vest, and gloves. He moved to sit down on the bed and leaned over her. "You look good enough to eat, princess."

     A gulp moved down her throat. "Are you going to eat me?"

     "In a manner of speaking…"

**Smut incoming**

     "I know your every desire," his hands moved up to her throat, fingers applying pressure to the sides. "I could make them come true."

     "I'm not- "She took a deep breath, eyes rolling back in her head. "I'm not ready for sex yet."

     All his muscles tensed quickly before he rolled his eyes. "Catholics and their morals."

     His hand released her throat and he replaced it with his mouth, fangs lightly scraping at the column of her throat. "Do you trust me?"

     She thought for a moment, rolling the idea around in her head. "Yes."

     "Then you're an even bigger fool than you appear." His words crept across her skin, raising the hairs on her neck. "But, for now, I will respect your wishes to remain 'pure'."

     A thrill ran through her. "I want some of your blood,  _princess_ , will you give it to me?"

     Her answer came out as a moan as his tongue traced along her pulse point. "Y-Yes!"

     He grinned and drug a sharp nail across her collar bone, watching for a moment as the blood welled there. "I still am curious," he mused waiting for the crimson liquid to spill from her collar bone and over her breast. "When you'll get your wings my little Nephilim."

     He didn't give her a chance to answer as his tongue lapping at her skin robbed her of any words, a free hand dipped into her corset to free her right breast. Once the blood stopped flowing his tongue wandered down and traced the very edge of her nipple and moved in loose circles around it. She pulled at her restraints, hands aching to touch him. But they stayed absolute, and his tongue continued to move in torturous circles around her nipple. Never touching the actual thing that craved his touch. Her moans came out faster, almost mewling for his touch. She tried to figure out how he did this, how he managed to reduce her to a puddle of moans and want with barely any contact. But it didn't matter. Her thighs rubbed together of their own accord, trying to provide some much-needed friction. One of his hands moved between her thighs, his large palm pressed so closely against the very part of her that craved him most. "I can smell you from up here pet, so wet for me. Surely, you can't be an angel. Angels don't get wet when the devil touches them."

     His fingers slipped under her underwear and traced along the very outer parts of her folds. Barely brushing the eager flesh that lay in waiting for him. She wanted very much to touch him the way he was touching her. To undress him and run her hands along the smooth planes of his body, find all the secrets only skin could tell. His bare fingers slipped under her underwear and moved between her wet folds, teasing them before slipping a single finger into her. She gasped and rolled her hips to meet him. Her body moved each time to meet him as his slowly moved that finger in and out of her aching body.

     "I-I…"

     "Yes, princess?" he emphasized his question by curling his finger against her g-spot.

     "I want to touch you, please."

     He stopped moving for a moment and considered her prone form. How she looked like an offering just for him with those silk ties binding her wrists to the bed. "Do you know anything about touching a man?"

     Her cheeks tinted pink, the pigment spreading down to her neck. "I don't really… I was hoping you could teach me."

     "Tell me, little angel, what have you done?" His finger inside her moved once again, moving in little circles against her spot.

     "I um kissed a boy on the cheek once. I wasn't allowed to date."

     He laughed long and hard, removing his finger from her body. His hands went to the silk that bound her to the bed and tore them in half without a whole lot of effort. Saira rolled her wrists and massaged them until feeling returned to her hands, her green eyes moving across his body with trepidation. Alucard smirked at her, before laying back against the pillows and folding his arms across his chest. She moved and straddled his lap her hands bracing on his shoulders. "Is this right?"

     His strong hands grabbed her hips and situated her until her heat was directly over his clothed member. "Much better."

     Another flush covered her pale features she quickly pushed the embarrassment down. She leaned forward braced her hands on his shoulders. "Can I kiss you?"

     "Are you going to preface your every action with a question?"

     She laughed and moved one hand up into his black tresses enjoying the softness and warmth. "Probably, is that a bad thing?"

     He hummed and closed his eyes. "Would you like a formal invitation? Sent by raven perhaps?"

     She leaned forward and gently pressed her lips to his, eyes fluttering shut. His lips moved under hers parting slightly so he could taste her mouth; her lips parted in kind mimicking him. One of Alucard's hands came up to tangle in her long black hair, tugging just hard enough to get her to gasp against him, his other hand went to the laces on her corset slowly loosening it. She lost herself in his touch and his kiss, her tongue moved to touch his desperately wanting to taste him. His tongue slipped along hers, moaning at the pure taste she offered. Her excitement grew writhing on his lap, her hands making quick work of his shirt's buttons. His fingers were undoing the laces on her corset one by one before moving to the front of the garment to undo the busk. Within a few heated seconds her top had finally came off and was quickly tossed across the room, and his shirt hung open allowing her hands to roam across his bare chest.

     She lost herself in all the sensations, his hands against her skin, his cool alabaster under her fingertips, his tongue dominating and exploring her mouth. Her hands kept moving, pushing his shirt off his shoulders and down his long-toned arms. In her eagerness she scraped her tongue along one of his sharp canines, blood welled up almost instantly. Alucard delved into her mouth with renewed vigor, one hand pressed to the back of her head fingers weaving into her hair tightening to hold her in place. His other hand moved to her left breast squeezing the ample flesh, focusing particularly on the area near her nipple. Since she could move little else, she rolled her hips; grinding her heated flesh against his hard, clothed, member wondering how far she could push him.

     He pulled back and took in the woman astraddle him. Bruises were starting to appear on her breasts, her skin was flushed, hair all mussed up all that was left was her stockings and underwear. And they needed to go. He needed her bare and exposed for his exploring. His hands hooked in the sides of her underwear and ripped the ruffled material from her body before doing the same with her stockings and garters. "Much better."

     "You've got too much left on, Alucard. Perhaps fix that?"

      A dark chuckle moved from his throat. "And what will you do with a naked man in your bed?"

     "I guess you'll just um have to wait and see." This was a coma dream after all, why not have some fun?

     He smirked and without moving from under her made his pants disappear. "Show me then, princess."

     She looked down between them to see what she would be working with, and there it was resting against his stomach all hard and ready. "I know what I want to do, but I'm not sure how to do it. Can you help me?"

     "What do you want to do?"

     "I um want to pleasure you with my mouth. But you're bigger than I um anticipated?"

     "Well," he shifted into a more upright position. "Give me your hand."

     She offered him her hand, he took the appendage and wrapped it around his cock and slowly began moving her hand up and down from base to tip. "Do all guys like it like this?"

     "That isn't something you need concern yourself with," his voice was close to a growl.

     "What do you mean?"

      His free hand tangled in the hair at the back of her neck and gave a pull until her eyes were level with his. "No other man will ever touch you again. You. Are. Mine. Do you understand?"

     Her whole body tensed, but the pain was not an entirely unwelcome sensation. In fact, it caused a rather intense reaction between her legs. Apparently, she took too long to answer because he gave another tug and repeated his question with a deeper snarl. Her answer came out in a breathless moan. "Yes! Yes, I understand."

     He released her hair and went back to his relaxed position. "Now, keep a hand at the base and slowly take the tip into your mouth."

     Saira was nervous, her hands shook but she wanted to do this. Something in her needed this, needed to bring him to heel with this simple act. Her mouth slid over his cock, pausing for a moment to get used to the new sensation. The skin was so soft but hard at the same time, like rose petals over marble. Her tongue flicked along the underside, savoring the taste that was uniquely him. Her groaned and once again tangled his fingers in her hair encouraging her to move. Slowly, she began to bob up and down careful not to hit him with her teeth. Eventually she lost herself to the pattern up and down, up and down; her hand pleasuring what her mouth couldn't fit. There was an ache starting to build in her jaw, but she ignored it determined to bring him to completion using only her mouth.

     He came with a growl, fangs set on edge and his entire body tensed. His hips bucked up both hands tangled in her ebony locks. Saira pulled back choking slightly before forcing herself to swallow the strange viscous liquid. It tasted awful but she got a bit of a perverse joy out of it as well. "Was that okay?"

     "You did better than expected, princess. Now lay back. It's your turn."

     The young woman blinked for a moment before laying back against the soft bed. His clothes seemingly rematerialized out of nowhere leaving her the only one nude. A wave of self-consciousness came over her, causing her to attempt to cover herself. But just as she moved to cover her breasts with her arms they were back in the silk restraints. "But how?"

     "Never hide yourself from my eyes. I want to always see what belongs to me."

     That sent a shiver up her spine. The way he repeatedly called her his, the way he commanded her body; it excited her beyond measure. He pushed her thighs apart and moved a singer finger up and down her slit. She twitched to his touch raising her hips to meet him. "Patience, princess, good things come to those who wait."

     His fingers found their way inside her, curling and stroking until she was panting. Carefully avoiding the places that made her melt, she couldn't cum not until he was done. He withdrew from her quivering quim and placed her thighs on either side of his shoulders. She was practically dripping, black curls glistening with her desire for him. Every muscle he could see was tensed or twitching with need, those emerald eyes of hers were rolled back in pleasure. That long tongue of his delved into her without a second thought lapping up the sweet nectar she offered. It was like a drug, like nothing he had ever tasted in his long years of life. Probably something to do with being and angel's spawn. His tongue moved between her folds until he found the little bud of pleasure that would bring her to orgasm. The movements were circular in nature, slow and large at first barely touching the little bundle of nerves. But they drew ever nearer tightening and quickening in pace. Her moans were almost continuous now hands tightening around the silk that bound her. Her abdomen was spasming and liquid fire danced through her veins. That coil in her stomach kept tightening until it was almost too much to bear. Finally it snapped and pleasure rolled over her like a tsunami taking her breath away.

**End of smut**

     "Miss O'Connor, can you hear me?"

     Green eyes slowly blinked open, taking in the hospital environment she found herself in. "Welcome back Miss, we were afraid we lost you there. How are you feeling?"

     "I," her voice came out hoarse and raspy. "I'm not sure."

     "Get some rest. We'll speak more tomorrow."

     And with that she drifted off into a warm comfortable slumber, but not before catching the edge of a red coat as it left.


End file.
